Pride
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: For the longest time, Sirius has kept a very big part of himself a secret from others. It's Remus Lupin—an openly bisexual artist who speaks freely about his own experiences regarding his sexuality—who keeps Sirius sane. Then one day, Sirius finds himself unable—and unwilling—to hide any longer. Muggle!AU, a little Wolfstar at the end. Warnings for homophobia and slight violence


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below. :)**

**Travel and Tourism Task 3: Write about somebody outspoken**

**Word Count: 3937**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

**WARNINGS: Homophobia, little bit of violence**

**Enjoy!**

The first time he saw Remus Lupin, he was at a pride parade that his parents didn't know about.

He'd heard of the man, of course. A renowned prodigy artist whose work Sirius' parents had loved to buy until word got out that Lupin liked men as well as women.

Well. Word didn't get out. Remus had told the reporter this fact quite proudly, which was a scandal in the Black household. But Sirius could remember well. It happened a year ago—he'd been sixteen—and he'd watched it all unfold on the telly. Lupin wasn't scared. That was the thing that resonated with him the most.

He was happy of the fact, even. He seemed glad that everyone knew.

When some of the public had tried to shame him, Remus responded with words more beautiful than his art—pitying, sometimes, but never hateful. That was another thing Sirius didn't understand. How could he look into those faces and not want to scream? It was a mystery to Sirius.

Orion and Walburga Black warned their sons about giving in to such temptation. Unnatural, they called it. Wrong. It really didn't surprise Sirius; everything he did was wrong to them. Why should this be any different?

But it felt different, somehow. He wanted this to be the exception. It wasn't. So he had to content himself with secretly switching on the telly late at night to see Remus Lupin—to see this living, breathing proof that it was okay to be who he was. The man was only a television screen away, but sometimes he felt even closer.

When he heard about the parade Remus would be attending, he knew he had to go. Even if he didn't march, even if he had to stand apart from the people who were so much braver than he was, he had to be there to give himself solid proof that this was okay. He was okay.

He said he was going out to the movies with friends, and only Regulus looked at him knowingly. His brother didn't like it, Sirius knew, but he didn't want him to get hurt, either, so he kept his mouth shut. Sirius was grateful for that.

Once he arrived at the parade, he was blown away. It wasn't just the bright colors, loud noises, and mass of people—it was the fact that everyone there was different. Like him, there was something about who they were that others didn't like. He felt a certain kinship with them, and he was able to imagine himself as one of them, even if he was only on the sidelines.

Sirius ran his fingers through his dark hair, letting it fall against his shoulders. He saw so many flags. So many smiles.

"I'm Sirius Black," he whispered to himself, too quietly for anyone else to hear, "and I'm gay."

The admission was only for himself, but he felt a weight lifted nonetheless. Back at Grimmauld Place, he had to keep this part of himself so carefully locked away, lest he be punished for it. He'd have cracked long ago if not for the fact that he had no one else to turn to.

But right now, that wasn't true. He had the marchers here. He had the parade. He had Remus Lupin, whom he spotted painting different flags on the faces of anyone who wanted to sport one. He looked happy. Amber eyes were sparkling as he painted a rainbow on the cheek of a little girl who was there in support of her two dads. Sirius felt an aching in his chest as he imagined, fleetingly, Regulus marching alongside him here, decked out in rainbow colors and waving banners in support of his brother. He wasn't idiotic enough to think of it as any more than a fantasy, though.

He watched the marchers—and Remus Lupin—for a while longer before turning around to go home. One day, he promised himself, he would be one of them.

* * *

Sirius frowned as he listened to the news, his family surrounding him. That ugly old toad—that Umbridge woman—was at it again, discrediting Remus and throwing poorly-concealed slurs at him on national television.

Sirius' hands were balled into fists as he watched. Those black, glittering eyes were evidence of her evil in his book, and he wanted nothing more than to jump through the screen and punch that smirk right off her face.

But he couldn't do that.

That night, when the rest of the house was asleep, Sirius crept down to the sitting room and switched on the telly, lowering the volume as much as he could. He watched Remus Lupin walk onto the screen, looking tired but determined.

The interviewer—someone named Tonks, not that old cow Skeeter—asked him to respond to Umbridge's insults and intolerance. Sirius listened carefully to the answer, but one bit in particular stuck with him.

"_Well, I suppose I don't have much to say. It's not my problem if she doesn't like me; it's hers. I can't change everyone's mind, and I don't want to. My goal is to show other kids struggling with their identity that they aren't alone, no matter who they are."_

It struck Sirius suddenly that he was included in those numbers. Remus Lupin was doing this—speaking out, being brave, showing that he was proud of who he was—for _him_. Sirius felt very, very special, which was something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"They won't like you watching that."

Sirius jumped, twisting around to see his younger brother standing there, robe wrapped tightly around him. His expression was disapproving.

Sirius turned back to the telly. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Yes, you are. Mother and Father don't like it, Sirius. They'll be angry. Just—listen to them, and you don't have to get hurt."

Sirius stared at the television screen, but he wasn't really watching. Anger was bubbling up inside him, hot and close to the surface. He was so tired of being told that he was worth less than everyone else.

"I like the way I am," he snapped. "I won't pretend to be someone else just to please them."

"What about to protect yourself?" Regulus pressed. His grey eyes were pleading.

Sirius ran a hand over his face, taking one last look at Remus Lupin. The artist was pushing his tawny curls out of his face, grinning a self-conscious grin that Sirius found endearing.

"_No, coming out was scary, at first. I had a pretty good idea that my parents would be accepting, but there was still that fear that I was wrong. I'm glad I did though; I felt so much better afterwards."_

Sirius reluctantly switched off the telly and followed Regulus back to his room. He wasn't as brave as Remus yet, but he was _trying_ to be.

* * *

It was a month after that when everything fell apart.

"Sirius." Walburga's eyes were dark with fury, but her voice was deathly quiet. "Explain."

Sirius stared down at the carpet for a moment. Then he looked back up at his mother, eyes determined. "There's nothing to explain. I kissed a boy, and I'm going to do it again."

Walburga took three steps forward, her blood red dress trailing after her. She and his father were scheduled to go out to dinner, Sirius remembered. He hoped they had to leave soon.

"You will absolutely not be doing this again," she seethed. "You represent this family, Sirius. As the eldest son you will one day take over your father's company. You will _not_ be tainting our reputation by engaging in such—such disgusting—"

Sirius straightened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height—nearly a head taller than his mother. "I am not disgusting," he ground out. "I am not worthless. It's you all with your close-mindedness that are the problem, not me. I'm better than you'll ever be."

Orion stood up slowly from his spot by the fireplace then, face completely devoid of all emotion. "Speak to your mother like that again. I dare you."

Instead, Sirius rounded on him. "I am a better person than you are," he hissed. "There is nothing wrong with me. There never has been anything wrong with me, and there never will be."

Orion gripped Sirius' arm tightly and shook him. "Don't you _dare_ speak to us that way! Go to your room until we tell you to come out. Any protests and you're going without dinner tonight!"

Sirius was shaking with rage and the overwhelming realization that they _weren't_ going to listen—they didn't care about him enough to listen.

"I can't be the son you want," he said quietly. "I'm sick of pretending that I can be. I'm gay—I like men, and—"

Pain exploded across Sirius' cheek, and he stumbled backwards, clutching his face. He looked back at his father, who had a crazed look in his eye.

"No son of mine," he roared, "will behave this way! Do you hear me? _No son of mine!_ Get to your room and _stay there until I say otherwise!_"

His heart thundering in his chest, Sirius straightened up slowly. He didn't say anything, but his hands shook. He turned away and stomped towards the stairs, pausing when he reached a wide-eyed Regulus. "I trusted you," he hissed angrily.

Regulus opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything. He looked away guiltily.

Sirius stalked up the stairs, chest aching. It seemed Regulus was fine keeping his secret as long as he didn't _act_ on that part of himself. Well, Sirius didn't need him. He didn't need any of his family.

Once he was in his room, Sirius grabbed a duffel bag and began piling clothes inside. He threw in a toothbrush and blanket, then tucked his pillow beneath his arm. He reached under his mattress and pulled out a wad of cash, which he'd never had any reason to use until now.

This was crazy; he knew that. He didn't have anywhere to go, nowhere to stay the night, and his sense of direction was faulty at best. Still, he couldn't stay in this prison any longer. He felt as though he was suffocating here, and if no one was going to let him out of his cage, then he would take the key himself.

Sirius slipped out the window of his bedroom and stepped carefully onto a tree branch. He climbed slowly down, his vision alternating between blurring and clearing. He wiped hastily at his eyes and dropped to the ground, then ran out of the garden. Let them rage, he thought furiously. Let them scream and cry and worry. He refused to let them shame him any longer.

_My goal is to show other kids struggling with their identity that they aren't alone, no matter who they are._

_No matter who they are._ Sirius held on to those words like a lifeline. First things first, he needed somewhere to stay. No one in his family would open their arms to him, but there was another family that might do just that.

Sirius walked the streets of London until he found a telephone box, then quickly inserted his money and dialed a number he hadn't used in over a year but still had memorized by heart.

"_Hello?"_

Sirius' mouth went dry. He tried to speak, but found himself unable to. He began shaking.

"_Hello? Is anyone there?"_

"James?" he croaked. "James, it's Sirius."

"_Sirius? Blimey, it's been ages! I thought your parents didn't want us to have any more contact?"_

Sirius swallowed. "They still think that. It's just that… I'm not going to let them ruin my life anymore."

"_Mate… I'm really glad to hear from you, but you need to be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."_

Sirius laughed dryly. "I think I've passed the point of no return, mate. Is it… can I kip at yours for the night? I'm not going back home."

James was silent for a minute, and Sirius thought of all the fun they'd had before his parents had deemed the other boy unworthy of his friendship—they'd pulled him out of school and enrolled him somewhere else, then monitored very closely the people Sirius interacted with. Yet another thing his parents had felt entitled to ruin.

"_It sounds like you're not going back ever."_

Sirius swallowed. "Yeah, that's the idea."

"_Then why the hell are you only asking to stay the night? Stay as long as you like. For good, even. I've missed you, Sirius, and Mum and Dad have, too."_

There was a part of Sirius that wanted to protest that he couldn't impose like that, but another smaller, more stubborn part of him just wanted to finally be somewhere he knew he was safe.

"Thank you." It was all he could say, but James—amazing, loyal James—understood that.

"_Of course. Do you need someone to pick you up? Where are you, anyway?"_

"I'm nearby, I'll walk," Sirius answered hurriedly. "Really James… thank you."

"_Don't be daft, you'd do the same for me. I've some mates over, but don't be a stranger, yeah? They know all about you, anyway. I've told them all about you."_

Sirius gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles whitening. There was something James didn't know about him, and in his experience, it was something of a dealbreaker. "James… I have to tell you something." He hesitated.

James noticed the gravity of the situation. "_You can tell me anything. You know that."_

Sirius shook his head, even though he knew James couldn't see. "I like blokes, James," he said bluntly.

"_Okay,"_ James said slowly. "_I'm guessing your parents didn't like that much."_

Sirius exhaled slowly. "No, they didn't."

James was silent on the other end for a long time. "_Mum's making you tea," he said at last. "Will you be here soon?"_

Sirius slumped against the glass behind him. "Yeah, I will. You don't mind?"

"_Of course not! You're my mate. And hurry up you idiot. Mum's having kittens—thinks you'll be run over, or something."_

Sirius let out a weak laugh. "I'm coming. See you."

"_See you."_

Sirius hung up the phone and sighed with relief. He stared at his hands for a bit, stunned. Then he grinned and set off to the Potters, ready to finally be among people who cared about him.

* * *

James Potter's crooked glasses and matching grin weren't things Sirius ever expected to miss, but once he saw them in the doorway he realized just how terrible life had been without them.

He ran to his friend, and James embraced him like a brother. It was as if their year apart had never happened.

Sirius hugged his friend just as tightly, enjoying the warmth he felt. James pulled away after a bit, ruffling his already messy black hair. He frowned when he saw Sirius' face.

"What happened to you?" He tapped his cheek, looking worried.

Sirius realized that his cheek must have bruised where his father struck it, and looked away in embarrassment. "Father wasn't happy," was all he said.

A burning rage ignited in James' hazel eyes, but he was tactful enough not to act on it right then. "Let's go inside. There are people I want you to meet."

So Sirius followed James in, and was immediately welcomed by Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. After they took Sirius' bag and ushered him further into the house, he headed upstairs to the guest room he always used to use—which really had become more like his room—and pretended not to hear James fill his parents in on that day's events.

He was touched to find that the Potters had kept his room exactly as he'd left it. Every poster still hung on the wall, his albums were still sitting on a shelf, and even some of his old school textbooks were in a stack on the desk.

Sirius walked in and sat on the bed, his finger tracing circles on the duvet. He sat there for a while, then stood up to wander the house. Too much had happened today that he didn't want to dwell on. James had said that he had friends over—the best distraction, in Sirius' opinion, was meeting new people.

He poked his head through different doors, hoping to spot an unfamiliar face. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father raising his hand, his mother's disgust, Regulus' fear—

There. On the second story balcony, a boy sat in front of a canvas, his back to Sirius. Sirius made sure the door creaked as he joined the other boy, to alert him of his presence. The boy heard and turned around, purple paint smeared across one cheek and black and blue streaks, all different hues, covered his left arm, which held a crowded palette.

But those eyes were what Sirius recognized, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Hello," Remus Lupin said kindly. "You must be Sirius. James mentioned you were coming."

Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, that's me. And you're Remus Lupin."

The other boy flushed, but he nodded a bit shyly. "That's me, yeah."

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair anxiously. For so long, he'd watched Remus paint and be interviewed, express his pride and give small tidbits of advice. He'd helped Sirius come to accept himself in a house where the very idea of a same-sex relationship nauseated his family, helped him to realize that they were the wrong ones, not him. Now he was sitting right before him, and Sirius wanted to thank him but lacked the words to do so.

Remus was staring at him, and Sirius felt suddenly self-conscious; he'd been silent for too long. His mind raced for something to say, but Remus beat him to it.

"Sorry, Sirius, do you mind if I—if I just…" He gestured from Sirius to the blank canvas before him. "I've been looking for a subject all day. No one has to see it of course, but—"

Sirius couldn't help but smile at Remus' babbling. He sat on a nearby stool and tilted his head to the side. "Sure. On one condition."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You let me talk to you about some… heavy stuff."

Remus' amber eyes were surprised. "Well, okay. You want to talk to me about it?"

"You're actually a pretty big part of it," Sirius admitted.

Remus' eyebrows shot up, but then he reached for his paintbrush and, after glancing at Sirius with a critical eye, dipped it into some paint. "Go on, then."

Sirius watched him make the first stroke, gathering his courage. "Thank you."

Remus didn't look up—he seemed to understand that this was a conversation Sirius could only have if he avoided eye contact, for which he was grateful. "For speaking with you?"

"For—doing what you do. Being so open about yourself to the public. Being open to questions and just… making sexuality seem like something to be proud of."

Remus straightened slightly as he worked. "It is something to be proud of."

Sirius exhaled slowly. "Not in my family."

Remus looked at him then, eyes flitting over to the bruise on Sirius' cheek. Sirius didn't say anything. He just let him stare. He wanted to convey just how much Remus had done for him over the years—how he'd made him feel _heard_, and _normal_, and someone _worthwhile_.

"You've really helped me," Sirius continued, a little louder. Bolder. "I used to watch you on the telly, in secret. I don't—" He stopped, frustrated. "I don't know how to explain to you how much you've helped me. I don't know how to make it up to you, either."

Remus glanced over at him, a small smile on his lips. "Honestly, hearing something like that means a lot to me. I'm really glad I could help."

Sirius nodded slowly. Somehow he felt that what he'd said wasn't enough—Remus had been the only light in a very dark period of his life. But maybe the right words would come with time. If that was the case, then Sirius was okay with that.

He cleared his throat. "So. How do you know James?"

Remus looked apologetically at him. He had his brush between his teeth while he blended some paint with his fingers. When he was finished, he took the brush out of his mouth and cleared his throat, cheeks pink. "Sorry about that. Erm, James and I met at school. I think I transferred there after you left. He's a good friend—but very protective."

Sirius chuckled, recalling all the punches James had thrown whenever Sirius' family was thrown in his face. "That he is."

They spoke a while longer, and Sirius found that Remus was a very easy person to talk to. He was an excellent listener, and the fact that he was a stranger made sharing secrets almost easier, like they were getting everything out in the open now. It was comforting, knowing that he didn't have a first impression to ruin.

The sun was beginning to set when Remus finally put his paintbrush down and leaned away from the canvas for Sirius to see.

He stood out black and white on a splash of purple and blue, eyes dramatically drawn and expressive. Sirius liked the bold, thick strokes of Remus' brush. It was like looking at the person he'd always wanted to be—someone confident and cocky, even when faced with discrimination; someone who knew how to hold their head up high. Maybe Remus saw this in him—maybe he could learn to be this person. Whichever it was, he liked it. Sirius grinned.

Remus was frowning at it, though. "Ugh, I didn't mean to bi it, I swear. I'm just inexplicably drawn to those colors at the moment."

Sirius burst out laughing, a dog-like sound he hadn't heard himself use in ages. "No, it's great," he assured the other man. "It's amazing."

It was sort of like having Remus around him, he thought. A symbol of their journey together, even if Remus hadn't been aware of his part in it.

Remus brightened and rewarded Sirius with a sunny smile. "Really?"

Sirius nodded eagerly. "Yeah."

The door to the balcony opened then, and James' head popped out. "There you two are! I've been looking everywhere. Figures you'd have hit it off already." James grinned at them both, then turned to Sirius. "You're staying here as long as you like—Mum's gotten your parents off your back. She threatened to take them to court, and well, that wouldn't be very good for their public image, now would it?"

Sirius' grin matched James'. No news could have been sweeter than that. He glanced over at Remus, who was obviously trying very hard not to eavesdrop. He reached over and tapped the top of the canvas, drawing Remus' attention.

"Could I…?"

Remus understood what he was asking. He handed the painting over to Sirius. "Yeah, of course, it's yours." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a bit rough around the edges, sorry."

"I like that," Sirius promised. Before he turned to go inside, pointedly ignoring James' knowing grin, he said, "Thanks again."

Remus smiled. "Sure thing, Sirius."

Sirius let James drag him away, but he couldn't help but look back at the artist. He didn't know where he'd be without him, but he was very, very grateful that he didn't have to find out.

This was what home was supposed to feel like, he thought as James jabbered on about his year and clapped Sirius on the shoulder without an ounce of awkwardness to it. He didn't have to hide here. Every last part of him was welcome.

It felt amazing.

**A/N:**

**Writing Club:**

**Assorted Appreciation: 3. Hope Lupin — Write about acceptance**

**Disney Challenge: Songs 1. Circle of Life — Write about someone finding their place in life**

**Book Club: Louisa Clark — (trait) cheerful, (scenario) leaving home, (item) red dress**

**Showtime: 8. Maps — (word) circle**

**Amber's Attic: 8. Julie d'Aubigny — Write about someone who is proudly bisexual (5 bonus points)**

**Em's Emporium: 4. (family) Blacks**

**Liza's Lodes: 6. Write about an artist**

**Angel's Arcade: 11. Dark Link — (color) blood red, (emotion) seething, (dialogue) "I'm better than you'll ever be.", (character) Regulus Black**

**Bex's Basement: 7. The Zodiac — Write about someone getting away with something.**

**Fortnightly Challenge: **

**Women's History: 2. Helga Hufflepuff — Alt. Write about acceptance**

**Cabin Fever: Signs 2. Solitary — Write about someone imprisoned**

**Alphabetti Spaghetti: (character) Umbridge**

**Insane House Challenge: 51. (character) Sirius Black**


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